No Regrets
by Rinapants
Summary: Vader doesn't regret anything. So why would he regret killing his wife? Slightly AU, Anakin/Padmé hints. Some what of a redemption fic. Complete


I do not regret this, little one. I loved her, yes. But is death such a hard price to pay? She was my love, my soul, the better part of me. My wife, and further more, my life. Is she really the one paying? Anyways, even with these strong feelings, can they save someone from the wrath of Imperial Prison? I've heard nothing but bad news about them… Those feelings are nothing now, for if she had lived, my _love_ wouldn't have saved her.

Love saves no one.

She's better off dead.

I don't regret it, not one bit.

Time passes, whether we want it to or not. You must understand this concept, my dear. Seconds turn into minutes, minutes into hours, hours into days, days into weeks, weeks into months, and months into years. Years can turn into decades, decades into centuries. Centuries can turn into millenniums. The time_ I _spent in her arms… Those precious moments seemed to last seconds… Even if they were minutes, hours, days, weeks, years, decades, centuries or millenniums. In total, I believe I spent the equivalent of a week with her.

But never question my love for her, youngling. That love gave her a chance. A freedom neither of us ever had.

I don't regret killing her at all. I don't regret loving her. Her love healed me, never caused harm.

Even if I was burned to a near crisp because of her treachery, I stilled loved her.

But I'll never regret it.

Master wouldn't let me regret it anyways, my little one. You must understand this too, regret is for the weak.

I'm watching you now, my daughter. Or were you a son, like my wife so desperately wanted? You look beautiful. I can tell, anything from her would be beautiful.

Even in death, she haunts me. But I remind myself again that I don't regret this.

She deserves the freedom death brings.

I don't understand the Naboo. They leave their dead, at least the worshipped ones, out in the open where any creep can touch them… My breathing grows more labored as I think of some fanatic touching _MY _Angel.

This is my fault.

Tears threaten to fall. They shouldn't, but they do.

So instead, I leave a warning. Taking off my customary cloak, I drape it over her body.

Darth Vader has visited his dead wife and left a gift. How sweet.

At least now they won't touch her…

Father loves you, little one. Did you know that?

I'm sorry I killed you.

But I'll never regret her death. I saved her, and in the end, isn't that what I always wanted?

_Some where, light years away, Midday on an Outer Rim planet…_

A youngster, no older then four, sat playing in the desert sand. His aunt constantly told him no, but he loved playing in. Little did he know, in about sixteen years he would be as sick of it as his father was.

Nothing was abnormal about this situation, and yet as the little one dug in the dirt, tears sprung forward. "Aunt Beru!" He called, running into the quaint little home that sheltered his aunt, his uncle, and himself. "Aunt Beru!"

"Little one, what is it?" His aunt finally asked, wiping her hands off on her apron before plucking him up in her arms.

"Father was talking to me!" He sobbed, burying his hair into her neck. "He told me he was sorry for killing me, but not my mother! He was _visiting her_!"

Beru went pale, and shook her head. "Oh no, my dear. No, there is no way. Your mother and father are gone, long gone. They can't talk to you. You've been in the son too long again without a hat." She scolded as she gave him a glass of water.

News traveled to the Outer Rim rather slowly. It was several weeks after that, Beru Whitesun Lars would discover that Darth Vader, her step brother-in-law, had went to visit his dead wife. They only clue was a single black cloak, covering the pregnant Senator up as if warning others to stay away.

Beru wished she didn't know what that warning meant, but she did and there was nothing she could do about that.

_Some where else, light years away from the previous planet, late evening on a Core planet…_

The young princess had been tucked in by her doting father, read several bed time stories and given three glasses of water. It was late in the Alderaan evening, nearly 2300, and the girl showed now signs of waking. Much like her mother in that sense, Bail would later go on to say.

But then she stirred, tears in her soulful brown eyes, crying for her father. "Daddy! Daddy!" She cried on and on.

Bail never, ever let her needs fall to a servant, and he was soon rushing to her side. "My little one, what is wrong?" He cooed as he scooped his adopted daughter into his arms.

"I had a dream…" She sniffled, rubbing her watery eyes on his shoulder. "I saw my mother, but there was another man with her… And he put a big ol' cloak on her, and said that he was sorry for killing me!"

Much like the child's guardian on the outer rim planet, Bail blanched and instantly denied it. "You had a bad dream, darling." He said softly as he stroked her brown curls out of her face. "A horrible, horrible dream. No one touched your mother, I assure you."

Bail would be amazed the next day when there were reports that Darth Vader went to visit the former Queen and Senator of Naboo. The only thing that gave the visit away? A single black cloak, covering the woman's preserved body up. As if she was tucked in.

Rumors went around after that. Ugly rumors that claimed poor Amidala and Vader had been a couple.

Bail wished he could dispel those rumors, but there was proof all around them. The wedding ring was place in plain sight, after all.

_Twenty Years Later, after the funeral of Darth Vader._

I watched you, but you knew that already. Didn't you son? Your sister doesn't want to pay attention to me, even if the Force is practically screaming in her ear. That's okay, I always knew we were more closely connected anyways.

Do you remember, all those years ago? You must've only been four then, I was still a fool.

I told you I didn't regret killing your mother.

I was wrong. I didn't want to admit it.

Young one, I want nothing more then to hold your mother again, to kiss her, to smell her sweet scent first thing in the morning. But that will never be… At least, I never thought it was to be again.

I missed her, my young ones. I didn't want to accept that dull ache was a lonely type of pain, not an angry type of pain.

I wonder how she can accept me. Surely she's still around, where I can still see her. We meant everything to each other. We were two halves of one whole.

She told me they called them "Soul Mates" on Naboo.

What a silly word, soul mates. The soul belongs to one person… How could it have a mate?

Maybe this is what they meant when they said they couldn't teach me. I am too narrow minded.

Is this my punishment? In life, I killed others. In death, I get to reflect.

I didn't know it then, but I was already dead. So is this my punishment for life?

A light hand brushes along my shoulder, and I look over quickly, wondering what Obi-Wan is playing at. But it is not my former master, it's the lovely woman I had once lost.

And she doesn't regret dying for me.

**_A/N: First of all, excuse the continued use of "regret". It's unbecoming, I know. But I feel like it's the best word. Besides, when did Anakin open up a thesarus?_**

Also, you might be wondering why Anakin doesn't regret it. They were soul mates, you said it yourself! Alas, I did. But that doesn't mean before that he was bitterly angry at her for dying on him. By the time this story takes place, it has been four years. By that time, Palpatine would've drilled it into Vader's head that she died on purpose. Or something similar. So I think that Vader wouldn't be crying while watching her funeral, visiting her grave.

So on and so forth. So... um... Feed back is appreciated. Very much so, I have another Anakin/Padmé story in mind, just in case you do like my writing style.

**_  
Disclaimer: I love this sandbox, but it's not mine. Le sad. All characters and planets mentioned(Anakin/Vader, Padmé, Luke, Leia, Beru, Bail, Obi-Wan, Alderaan and Naboo) belong to Mr George Lucas. I make no money for writing this. _**


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